Dylan bristled. He wasn’t going to be nice and polite to the man who had organized his kidnapping.
“I have to go to the bathroom.”
“You can go after you’ve met with alpha.”
Dylan scowled. “I haven’t been to the bathroom since before I got on the plane. I need to pee.”
Bruce sighed. He opened the door and looked at Cain. Before he could say anything, Dylan leaned forward and threatened, “If I don’t pee now, I’m going to pee my pants in front of your precious alpha.”
Dylan hadn’t had anything to drink in well over ten hours, so rather than having to pee, he was actually desperately thirsty, but he needed a moment to himself to gather his thoughts, and if he could delay meeting with Steve’s dad, maybe he could formulate a plan.
Cain rolled his eyes. “There’s a bathroom just inside the house. You can go there. Now get out. We don’t have all night.”
Dylan undid his seatbelt and climbed out of the car, feeling stiff from the long drive. Bruce and Cain moved into position on either side of him, crowding him between them and leading him up to the house.
They walked inside, and Dylan looked around with the curious gaze of someone trying to formulate an escape. The front door opened into a large foyer, with a grand staircase taking center stage, and two wide hallways leading into the house on either side of it.
The door closed behind them with a solid thud, and Dylan felt a wave of hopelessness crash over him. Even if he did manage to get out of the house, he’d have a whole werewolf town to evade, and if he managedthat, he’d still have to get over the ten-foot fence or through the gate with its armed werewolf guards, and if he managed that, he’d be in the middle of nowhere.
It was impossible. Dylan wasn’t sneaky or tricky by nature, and the last time he’d tried to evade someone was when he was playing hide and seek with his six-year-old cousin. A game he had been embarrassingly bad at.
Escape was realistically not an option.
He continued to look around, hoping for some burst of inspiration, but it was halfhearted.
“This way,” Cain said, walking past the staircase and taking the hall to the left. He stopped a few feet into the hall and pointed at a door leading to the space under the stairs. “You can go to the bathroom in there.”
Dylan opened the door and walked into the bathroom, closing the door and locking it as quickly as he could. He didn’t want to risk Bruce or Cain trying to come in and supervise him. With the door locked, Dylan turned around and examined the room he was in. The bathroom was on the larger side, with a vanity on the opposite side of the wall, and a toilet and urinal to his left.
Dylan walked over to the sink and winced at his reflection. He looked awful. Tired, with bags under his eyes, he looked exactly as bad as he felt. Looking down, avoiding his reflection, Dylan turned on the water and bent down to drink.
Crisp, clean water filled his mouth, and Dylan realized that he was even thirstier than he’d thought. He drank down mouthful after mouthful, gulping down water until his stomach felt bloated. When he was done, he rose up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, feeling at least a little better.
He glanced over at the urinal, but since he didn’t really have to pee, he decided to just wash his hands.
After he’d dried his hands, Dylan stood in front of the sink and dithered until a harsh knock on the door jolted him into action. He walked over to the door, and with great reluctance, unlocked it and stepped back into the hall.
“So, you really had to piss, huh?” Cain said, his voice angry.
“We had water bottles in the car,” Bruce said, sounding dejected. “I offered you one.”
Dylan looked at the floor, ignoring them. It wasn’t their business what he did in the bathroom.
“Whatever, come with us.”
Cain grabbed his arm, yanking him back into place between him and Bruce and marching him further down the hall. They passed a wide archway leading into a homey living room, after which the two hallways from the foyer merged into one. They kept walking, turning left and going down another hallway, at the end of which they stopped in front of a set of double doors.
Cain knocked, a respectful rap of his knuckles, and a man who looked like he could have been Steve’s clone opened the door. Then Dylan got a second look, and realized that the man wasn’t quite as similar as he’d thought. He had the same chin and cheekbones as Steve, and the shape of their nose was identical, but the man in front of him had a heavier brow, and he was an inch or two taller.
“You must be Dylan,” he said, shooting Dylan a rueful grin. He held out his hand. “My name is Marcus. I’m Steve’s big brother.”
“Hi,” Dylan said, feeling awkward. He shook Marcus’s hand.
“I’m sorry we had to meet like this,” Marcus said. “But please don’t be scared. You’re important to Steve, so nothing bad is going to happen to you, okay?”
Dylan nodded. Marcus looked sincere, but Dylan wasn’t put at ease in the slightest.
“Don’t keep him waiting at the door, for goodness sake,” a jovial baritone bellowed from the other side of the door. “Bring him inside. Bruce and Cain, you guys can go home. You did well.”
